Dark Angel Unleashed
by wltdnfaded
Summary: PLEASE READ THIS ONE FIRST! STORIES DID NOT LOAD IN ORDER. Part II of the Dark Angel Series. Lylla, a powerhungry pleasure slave aboard Death Star I, meets her destiny.


DISCLAIMER: Based on characters and situations created by George Lucas. All characters (sans those of author's creation) belong to George Lucas and Lucasfilm, Ltd. and I make no financial gains whatsoever by the work presented here.

Lylla sat at her small table, completely nude, mindlessly pushing the cred chips around on the slick surface. Twenty five hundred credits, that was all she needed. Just twenty five hundred more to meet her buyout price of ten thousand credits. Then she would be free.

Her short-lived optimism suddenly burned away like a lit match. She slapped herself in the forehead and clenched her teeth. Twenty-five hundred…may as well be in the millions. How long had it taken her to accumulate what she had already? Five years? The following week would mark the beginning of her thirty-first year alive…how long could she hold herself together like this? When will the small lines start forming on her face, around her eyes? When will those parts of her still firm body begin to soften and sag? How long could she still successfully turn the trick before becoming a useless, aging joke on board the Death Star? Like she wasn't one already…

In a small fit of fury and despair, Lylla swiped her arm across the table top, sending the little cred chips flying in all directions in her quarters. She shook as she intensely forced her tears back, berating herself for this weakness. _Stop it, stop it, you weak little fool! Get a hold of yourself—stop acting like a pathetic little WOMAN…_

The money would come, one way or another. Fifty creds here, a hundred there in the form of tips and small gifts bestowed by DS officers…it would come. She smiled bitterly as she glanced about her tiny quarters. She was already more fortunate than the other pleasure slaves onboard. She was the only one with her own living space, cramped as it was. Her room even had a window, be it a small one. She had her own berth and her own table and chair. She still had to share the fresher with the other slaves, but this was a minor annoyance in light of everything else she had.

No, she would find a way out…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of the comlink. Irritably, she hit the speaker button. "Yes?"

The harem matron's voice crackled over the speaker. "Lylla, you've been called for."

Lylla stretched in her chair, pulling her arms and legs to their fullest length. "Mmm…who is it now? Tarkin? Tagge? Motti? Gods, I hope it's not Motti, that freak…" The comlink remained quiet for a moment. Lylla huffed, "Well, who is it?"

"It's…um…" The matron cleared her throat before she could spit out the name. "It's Lord Vader, Lylla."

Lylla's chair practically flew across the room as she leapt up, threw her arms over her head, and let out an elated screech that bounced off the ceiling and almost shattered the matron's eardrums. The matron obviously took Lylla's screams to be those of terror, for she piped, "Lylla…I can make some sort of excuse for you if you're afraid. I can perhaps tell Lord Vader you are in the infirmary or something—"

"Are you crazy?" Lylla barked into the mic. "Do you know how long I have worked for this—been waiting for this? Inform Lord Vader I will be there in a half-hour." She slapped the comlink off and skipped toward the small wardrobe, passing the slim full-length mirror hanging on the wall. Stopping, she gazed at her nakedness, running a hand over her torso and lightly caressing her breast, all the while smiling. "Play your cards right, Lylla," she murmured as she intensely glared into her own eyes.

She pulled a garment and pair of boots from the wardrobe and began to dress. She slid her arms into the tight sleeves of the black garment and fastened the front across her breasts and ribs. She donned a pair of black vinyl briefs cut low in the front and high up the hips and back with fasteners on either side. Finally, she pulled on the thigh-high black vinyl boots, clipping them to the garters that hung from the briefs.

She stood, nimbly balancing herself on the thin and impossibly high heels of the boots, and admired herself in the mirror. The top garment fit snugly around her form and heaved her breasts up and out of the neckline while exposing her tight midriff. A long two-meter train of black silk spilled from the back of the top garment and pooled around her feet. The high boots and skimpy briefs made her already long legs look even longer, and the heels made her almost as tall as Vader himself. She had sacrificed a good sum of her buyout money for this outfit, but she now saw it was well worth it. She ran her hands through her short scarlet hair and moaned as she found herself aroused by her own image.

Executing a neat pirouette on her heel, she moved toward a small drawer in the wardrobe. Opening it, she pulled out one of the many hand-rolled glimmer-spice joints there and placed it between her lips. She was about to light it with her tiny laser-lighter when she stopped. She withdrew the joint from her lips and stared at it for a moment before putting it back into the drawer. "No, not this time," she whispered to herself, "This time, you go sober."

She exited her private quarters into the main harem chamber. Several girls, human and alien, were lounging or sitting on their berths and whispering nervously amongst themselves until they saw the Amazon-like red-haired pleasure slave enter the room. Lylla narrowed her black eyes and smiled a tight smile at their sudden stillness. They had obviously heard the news of her newest client.

She raised an eyebrow at the girls. "What?"

A young, lavender-skinned Twi'lek girl gawked at Lylla with huge eyes. "You're actually going, Lylla? To Lord Vader?" she asked in heavily accented basic.

"Of course I am, don't be stupid. What, I'm going to say no?"

"Lylla," a petite brown-haired human girl whispered tightly, "You're crazy."

Lylla threw back her head and laughed heartily at the comment. "I may well be," she said as she sauntered toward the younger slave. Her smile dissolved instantly as her hand shot forward and painfully pinched the girl's chin. "But let's see how crazy I am when you're still rotting here and I'm NOT!" She jerked her hand away from the girl's face and strode through the chamber door.

Her heels clicked noisily against the durasteel floors of the corridor as she proudly strode toward Vader's private chambers. She could feel the gawks and stares of Imperial officers and stormtroopers grope over her lithe form like invisible, salacious fingers—but instead of lustfully returning their stares as she normally would, she kept her head held high and her gaze focused ahead. She couldn't be bothered with these "peons" at the moment. Her services had been requested by the most powerful and feared entity of the entire galaxy. With the train of her garment billowing behind her and anticipation flooding through her veins, Lylla felt and moved like dark royalty.

She never hesitated for a second when the door to Vader's chambers slid open upon her approach. With a final toss of her bobbed tresses, she confidently stepped through into the awaiting antechamber.

The first thing Lylla noticed was that Vader's quarters were unlike any other officer's on the Death Star. She found herself standing in a dimly lit octagon-shaped foyer with seamless walls of black marble. The walls were carved in a form of writing she had never seen before. Staring at the writing, she could swear that it was pulsating, moving, shifting slightly before her eyes. She blinked hard a few times to focus her eyes, suddenly remembering that she was completely sober and that she was not hallucinating this phenomenon. She walked slowly toward one of the walls, reaching out toward one of the symbols to see if would still move under her touch…

Unless you wish to experience severe seizures and possible death, I suggest you do not touch any symbols of Sithskrit.

Lylla's hand froze just centimeters shy of the wall, and she glanced around the chamber, trying to decipher where the rumbling voice had come from. As it spoke again, she came to realize it was generating from her own head.

You are punctual. That pleases me. You may enter.

The wall in front her smoothly and silently lifted from the floor. Lylla showed no sign of surprise or fear, but calmly waited for the wall to rise high enough for her to step through into the adjoining chamber.

The chamber was very much like the foyer with its carved black marble walls, but much, much larger. The far wall was made entirely of one massive window from ceiling to floor, Vader's private viewport. The chamber was completely unfurnished save for a huge black sphere anchored to the floor in the center of the room.

Lylla, despite her outward bravado, felt the chill of intimidation course down her spine. Nevertheless, she stepped toward the sphere, her hands placed on her slim hips. She stopped in mid-stride when the sphere's top began to ascend, the jagged clamps mimicking the teeth and jaws of some nightmarish hell beast. A bright white light shot from the inside of the sphere, and Lylla caught her gasp in her throat at the sight within the sphere.

She could see delicate metal appendages lowering Lord Vader's helmet onto a ghoulishly white and heavily scarred naked skull. The sound of the helmet clamping itself back onto the Dark Lord's gorget lightly ricocheted off the cold marble walls, and Lylla could almost feel their vibrations against her exposed parts of skin. The entire throne within the sphere began to slowly rotate until the seated Lord of the Sith was fully facing the pleasure slave standing before him.

Lylla felt as though her heart were beating high up in her throat. She tried to slow her accelerated breathing as well as think of something to say…

She bowed her head. "My Lord, my name is—"

"I know who you are," Vader said flatly. "I sent for you, if you recall."

Lylla fluttered her eyes downward. For the first time in years, she actually felt awkward. For the first time in years, she did not have complete control of her situation. Not this time.

"Yes, of course you did, My Lord," she stammered, fighting to retain her coldly seductive composure. Taking in a deep breath, she reached up to her breasts and began unlatching the fasteners of her garment.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Lylla stopped at the second fastener and glanced up at the Dark Lord, knitting her brow in mild confusion. "I'm…disrobing, my Lord."

"Why?" Vader asked quietly.

"Because…I thought you wanted me to."

It was then Vader rose from the encapsulated throne. As he did, the center of the sphere's lower jaw jutted out and down into a small staircase. He stepped down onto the main floor, and Lylla was amazed by the elegance and grace in which Vader moved his armored bulk. As he approached her, she felt stimulation mingle with her nervousness, causing her breast to heave up and down in shallow breathing.

He stopped just shy of a meter from her, and actually found himself mildly pleased that he did not have to strain his neck to look down into her eyes. In her heels, the top of her head stopped just shy of the widow's peak of his helm. It also pleased him that she looked directly into his eyescreens. He opened his Force receptors to her, taking in her emotions. She was nervous, yes, and intimidated, but she was not afraid. This was good.

He folded his arms over his breast console. "You are not here for the purpose you think, therefore you may leave your clothing intact." He noted the slight look of disappointment flicker in her eye. He continued. "I wish to converse with you." Her nervous titter also did not escape Vader's attention. "You find that amusing, girl?"

Lylla refastened the top clip of her garment as she quickly regained her composure. "No, Lord Vader." She cleared her throat. "It's just that…most men are not interested in talking with me."

"Most men are fools, as I think you well know from your experiences," Vader stated. "Walk with me." He turned and casually strode around the meditation sphere with Lylla flanking his left. She stopped with him as he planted himself in front of the huge window, peering out. "You are a pleasure slave."

"Yes, my Lord, " Lylla confirmed, mildly confused by his statement of the obvious.

"Tell me, do you enjoy your work?"

"Of course, my Lord," she replied quickly.

The mask snapped from the window toward Lylla's face. "Do not lie to me, girl. I can tell when people lie. And do not tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth." He turned slowly to the window again. "Do you enjoy your work?"

Lylla paused, muddled by the question and unsure what Vader was getting at. Finally, she sighed deeply as she peered out the viewport, folding her hands behind her back. "I…try to make the best of the cards life has dealt me, my Lord. And I strive to be the best at what I am aboard this vessel. Wallowing in self-pity does not get anyone what he or she truly wants. Obstacles are made to be overcome." She glanced sideways at the Dark Lord. "As you may well agree." It was more a statement than a question.

Vader pulled himself even straighter in response. He understood the comment to be an acknowledgement of his dependence upon his life-supporting armor. This woman was, indeed, as reckless as he had heard.

"You do not seem to fear me, Lylla."

Lylla was caught off guard for a moment. She liked the way Vader's resonant bass caressed her name as he spoke it for the first time. A bitter smile crossed her lips. "I do not fear much anymore, my Lord. Life is cheap, and mine is cheaper than others."

Vader did not reply immediately, but rather continued to stare out into space's void. After a long silence, he spoke again. "I have noticed the way you look at me. Why?"

"My Lord?"

"Why do you…stare at me with lust in your eyes?"

Again, Lylla weighed the question carefully before answering. "You attract me, my Lord."

"What have I said about lying, Lylla?"

"I am not lying. Can't you tell?"

Vader scanned her even more closely, and found that she was indeed speaking the truth. "Why do I attract you?"

They were now entering an arena more familiar to Lylla. She turned around and leaned against the window, folding her arms over her breasts, purposely pushing them even further out of her top. She tilted her head and smirked. "You are commanding, my Lord. There is…majesty in your movement, your voice, and your demeanor. You hold power over life and death, and everyone fears you for it." She flitted her eyes up and down his monstrous form, pausing briefly to scan his potent legs, before returning her gaze back to his mask. "You intrigue me. I am…curious."

For the first time since the conversation began, Vader's voice revealed a hint of irritation. "So, I am merely a curiosity to you?"

Lylla parried the verbal thrust. "And why am I here, Lord Vader? Are you not curious about me as well?"

Again, Vader turned his mask to meet Lylla's eyes head on. And again, Lylla looked into his mask without fear or hesitation. Despite the woman's insolence and arrogance, he found himself enjoying this conversation. He was speaking with someone unafraid of him and intelligent, even witty. And a woman, no less…an alluring woman who was showing carnal interest in him. This had become quite alien to Vader over the last twenty years.

He turned away from the window and paced a few meters away from her—since he did not command her to follow, Lylla stayed in her leaning position against the window. She watched him intently, and felt her nervousness begin to surface again as nothing came from him but the wheeze of his respirator. She worried that perhaps she had gone too far this time…

"Did you happen to witness the destruction of Alderaan?" Vader asked, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Lylla relaxed a bit. "Yes, my Lord, I did."

"What did you feel when you saw it?" He turned in her direction. "Again, the truth."

Lylla stared at him through lowered lids briefly before replying. "The truth, my Lord?" She pushed herself off the window and started walking toward him. "I found it…exhilarating! It excited me. I bore witness to the ultimate power, the death of a world! And…I felt envious."

"Why?"

"I felt envious because…I wished I had been the one to press the button."

She stopped in front of Vader, arms still folded, eyes still locked to his. Vader pushed past the waves of lust and rage that poured forth from the slave to continue his questioning. "You felt no terror? No shame or remorse? No pity for the Alderaani people?"

Lylla's full mouth again curved into a tight smile. "Like I said, life is cheap. I didn't know those people. Why should I care? I just enjoyed the show."

Vader said nothing, but merely nodded once. Yes, he had been right about this one. From the first moment she had leered at him in the corridor outside of Tarkin's quarters, wearing nothing but a sheet and a malicious smile, he had detected the pure darkness that saturated her aura. Self-obsessed, vain, pitiless, sadistic, lustful, beautiful; she was close to perfect for his needs. It was time now to uncover her talents and test her resolve…

"Come with me," Vader commanded, turning on his heel, sending his cape sweeping behind him. Lylla followed, the train of her garment perfectly mimicking the grand sweep of Vader's cloak.

They left his chambers and traveled down the halls, with Vader leading and Lylla flanking slightly behind and to his left. This time she did not feel any gawks or stares, for all the surrounding personnel never dared raise their eyes in the presence of the Dark Lord. Lylla again felt the thrill and arousal of enjoying the company of complete power.

They entered a lift that took them to the detention levels. As they exited the lift, the cell clock commander and two stormtroopers met them.

"Is everything ready, Commander?" Vader barked in his usual booming, demanding tone when speaking to lesser officers.

The commander snapped himself to attention, forcing his eyes straight ahead. "Yes, my Lord. Everything has been arranged precisely as you ordered."

As she and Vader passed the officer, Lylla noticed his eyes sway away from their target on the wall to pass across her burgeoning cleavage. Lylla dismissed this, as she was quite used to salacious glances. But Vader stopped, motioned to Lylla to stay where she stood, and calmly paced back to the officer. "Did you see something to your liking, Commander?"

The officer stammered, "No…no…my Lord…" His voice became strangled and tight, and Lylla saw the officer's eyes bulge out of his head and his pallor begin to turn bluish.

Vader's voice remained cool and stately, his hands never moving from their position on his belt. "You will pay those in my company the same respect as you do me. Understood, Commander?" The choking officer, fighting for air through the invisible grip, hastily nodded his head. "Good." With that, he released his Force-hold on the officer and continued through the narrow detention level corridor.

Lylla was frozen momentarily, staring at the gasping officer, astonished. Vader could not have possibly seen the man's lascivious glare, yet he knew it happened. Not only that, the Dark Lord had actually championed her honor…Excited, she smiled and followed him down the corridor.

They stopped before a door. Vader passed his palm over the electro-lock and the door speedily and noisily slid up into the ceiling. Lylla followed him into the brightly lit chamber.

In the middle of the round white room was a young human male bound by the wrists, hanging from restraints mounted in the ceiling. Lylla watched Vader circle around the young man as she stood in the door. Vader never looked at him, just merely walked around him in a circle. Eventually he motioned to Lylla to come to his side as he stopped in front of the bound man. She looked at the young man. He seemed to be no more than eighteen or nineteen, wearing a shredded Rebel uniform. He was barely conscious, badly bruised with small cuts on his face and arms. She saw him look at both of them with a mix of terror, hatred, and defiance.

Vader then motioned for her to follow him. He walked toward the cylindrical wall and waved his hand again. A shelf with a rounded edge slid from the wall, and Lylla gawked at the various instruments of torture she saw displayed there on a bed of black velvet. Some were modern—syringes, electronic synapse shatterers, tiny laser shivs, vibroblades. But others looked outmoded, such as the variety of leather whips, needles, and metal clamps lay amongst the more technologically advanced torments.

As she ran her eyes over the display, she again heard Vader's voice echoing throughout her mind as it did when she first entered his chambers.

Do not speak to me in front of this prisoner. Answer me with your feelings. Understood?

Lylla nodded.

This prisoner was one of Princess Leia's personal guards aboard her frigate. Like her, he seems to have been trained in resisting our truth serums. So we step to the next level of interrogation. You are to extract the location of the Rebel base from him. Vader passed his gloved hand over the ensemble of instruments. Do you know what these are?

Lylla sent her affirmation.

Excellent. You may choose your instrument for questioning now.

She ran her hand over the display like a diving rod. Ignoring the more modern devices, she eventually rested her hand upon a leather flog. She gripped the handle and lifted it from the velvet, running the several thick leather strands through her other hand, gingerly touching the tiny sharp metal barbs fastened to each end of the strands.

An archaic instrument. Admirable choice. I leave you to your own devices, Lylla. Remember this—there is no right or wrong way. Only results.

With that, Vader turned away from the display, and it closed back into the wall. He strode to the cell door and turned briefly back to Lylla, nodding only once, before exiting into the corridor. Lylla stood for a moment, running her hand over the tails of the whip, trying to calm the raging tension streaming through her extremities, unsure how to begin the interrogation.

Meanwhile, Vader took his position in front of a security monitor in the cellblock's command center and watched the proceedings through the cell's secret camera.

She finally took a deep breath and turned to the young prisoner hanging from the ceiling, pulling herself up to her full impressive height. Slowly, casually, she strode toward him as he glared at her with hateful, frightened eyes. She narrowed her almond eyes and pulled her lips into a half smile.

"The base," she murmured.

The young prisoner pulled his own lip into a snarl. "Go to hell."

She smiled even wider. "Not today."

CRACK! With amazing speed, she struck the man across the chin with the butt end of the whip. He reeled to the side and cried out and before he had a second to recover, she struck him again on the other side, again sending a resounding CRACK! echoing off the cell walls.

"Let's try this again," Lylla purred, tracing little patterns on her cleavage with the handle of the cat. "The base."

"Fuck you!" the prisoner hissed, a trickle of blood escaping his lips and running to his chin.

"Maybe later." She walked again in her casual manner behind him. She ran her hand from the small of his back slowly, gingerly, all the way to the nape of his neck. She felt him shiver at her touch in spite of himself. She leaned into his ear as she wrapped her fingers under the collar of his torn uniform. "Besides, it doesn't look like I'm the one getting fucked here." With a powerful one-handed yank, she ripped the uniform clean from his back.

The prisoner cried out in surprise. Lylla began tracing small invisible abstracts with her talon-like nails upon his naked flesh, humming a little tune. Reaching up and under the torn uniform, she did the same to his chest and abdomen, nuzzling her nose against his neck. She heard him suck air in hard as he fought against his physical response to her, and she smiled.

"Do you have a name? I'd like to keep this as informal as possible."

The young man bit down on his lip as she lightly grazed her nails across his navel. Before he could stop himself, he whispered, "Ralan."

She trilled his name on her tongue. "Rrralan." He gasped when he felt her press her pelvis against his buttocks. "Well, Rrralan, you are very young and very pretty. There are many other things I'd rather be doing to you right now, but we have a problem. I need to know the location of that base first."

"NO!" Ralan cried, violently shaking his head.

Lylla scowled and huffed through her nose as she backed away. She replaced the nails on his back with the sharp barbs of the cat, dangling them up and down his spine. Again he shuddered, and she heard him emit a low whimper. "One more chance, Ralan. The base." She was answered by nothing but his ragged breathing.

She stepped back, twirling the cat to gain momentum. She uttered, "Pity," as she flung the cat over her head and sliced it down across his bare back. The sound of the whip's impact bounced off the walls, intermingling with the prisoner's screams.

Ralan arced violently as he screamed, and Lylla watched the fleshy stripes on his back seep blood red in a matter of seconds. She gasped, white-knuckling the handle of the whip and feeling her nipples stand straight out. Arousal and power surged through her entire system like liquid lightening: She clenched her loins to keep the gushing moisture of excitement there from dribbling from her trunks. Without even giving Ralan a second chance to comply, she raised the cat again and slashed a second time in reverse.

As Ralan shrieked again, Lylla heard the disembodied voice of Vader once again in her mind say, Control yourself, girl. Try not to kill the prisoner before extracting the information needed.

Lylla stopped and immediately sent her apologies to the Dark Lord, silently cursing herself for getting carried away.

Continue.

She walked around the prisoner again. She could see the tears from his eyes mingling with the blood streaming from his mouth. He hung there, panting and fighting to keep his torturer from seeing his anguish. She came to him and grabbed the front of his tattered shirt, ripping it down, exposing his bruised yet chiseled young chest. Slowly, the whip dangling by its strap from her wrist, she ran her slim hands over his chest, slipping her thigh between his legs, pressing her breasts against his bare skin, brushing her lips against his neck. Ralan stiffened and tried to jerk his head away only to have Lylla grab his hair and pull his face back to her. She bore into his blue eyes with her own, drinking in his breath, running her nails across his chest.

"Please, Ralan, just tell me where it is," she whispered against his lips, her eyes awash with feigned compassion. Her fingers rested against his nipple, teasing it into erection. She rubbed her thigh against his groin. The young man clenched his eyes and moaned, confused by the mixture of pain spiked with pleasure coursing through him. Lylla reached down and, with the handle of the whip, began caressing his crotch with it, rubbing it back and forth. Ralan shuddered and gasped, and then began to cry softly.

"Tell me where it is, and this will all stop, Ralan." Suddenly, a sob wracked Lylla's own throat, and Ralan saw a tear emerge from her eye to delicately trickle down her face. "I don't want to hurt you anymore, Ralan, " Lylla lied through her crocodile tears. "You are so beautiful, so young…so much to live for…" She rubbed his nipple even harder. "They're making me do this, Ralan, making me hurt you…like this…" She suddenly dug her talons into his areola and ruthlessly twisted it, slicing into his flesh.

Ralan screamed again, throwing his head back. Lylla, still twisting his nipple, reached under and savagely grabbed the growing bulge of his crotch, digging in her nails and squeezing with all her might. Ralan twisted and cried out, "Please, stop, please…STOP!"

At the cellblock command center, a satisfied grin twisted Vader's face under his mask as he watched Lylla bring the prisoner closer to breaking…

"The base, Ralan," Lylla hissed through clenched teeth. She twisted the hand holding his privates violently to the right, and he let out a shriek of a wounded animal. "THE BASE!"

He could take no more. His young age and youthful dreams of valor and heroism had not prepared him for this kind of torment. The beatings, the drugs, the starvation, the exhaustion, the pain, the humiliation, the gashes in his back, the blood dripping and pooling at his feet, the venomous voice and velvet cruelty of this harpy's touch…no more. No more…

"Yavin Four!" he whimpered, his body wracking with sobs of torment and self-loathing. "They're on Yavin Four! Please…just stop hurting me…" As Lylla released her hold on him, Ralan slumped in his chains and cried.

She stood momentarily, arms folded, watching him. She then gently touched his face, raising his chin to meet her eyes. As he stared at her with tear-braised eyes, she leaned into him and touched his lips with hers, eventually releasing her tongue and running it along his teeth and lips. "Good boy," she whispered as she released him.

She began to walk to the door when she stopped and turned. Without any warning, Lylla brought the cat up once again, and once again slashed five new furrows across young Ralan's back.

As he screamed again, Lylla snarled, "That's for taking so long," before turning on her spiked heel and exiting the cell.

She marched down the grated metal corridor to where Darth Vader stood at the command center, waiting for her. As she handed the bloodied cat to him, she stated, "Yavin Four."

"Yes, I heard," Vader replied, taking the cat from her hand. He tossed it toward the cellblock commander as he added, "Well done, Lylla."

Lylla's breast swelled with pride. "Thank you, My Lord."

Vader turned to the commander. "Proceed with the execution."

The commander bowed slightly, being overly careful not to cast his eyes toward Lylla. "Yes, my Lord." He gestured to the two troopers flanking the lift to follow him down the corridor to Ralan's cell.

Vader started toward the lift when he turned toward Lylla behind him. "You will accompany me back to my chambers, Lylla." With that, he cavalierly extended his massive arm toward her, indicating that she take it.

For a brief second, Lylla stood stunned, her mouth agape. She didn't even notice the blaster shots coming from down the cellblock corridor… No one had ever done this for her before. Throughout her entire life, she had been treated like a whore, a piece of property, trash. Darth Vader was treating her with respect and manners; he was treating her like a lady. She thought for a moment that she might cry…

With a deep breath and a soft smile, she gracefully raised her hand and settled it upon the Dark Lord's hand. He in turn bowed his helm to her slightly as he led her into the lift. He continued to escort her as they left the lift and traveled down the corridors of the Death Star back toward his private chambers. Lylla could only imagine what sort of impression they struck as they walked by the various Death Star personnel, with her walking at Vader's side as his escort, his consort. She held her head high and made her strides long and fluid despite the fact that she felt as though she may burst any moment.

They finally came upon his chambers and entered. Vader led her to the center of the room, releasing her hand and walking to his meditation chamber. He ascended the stairs and took his seat within. Lylla remained standing, waiting…

After a pause, Vader finally spoke. "I commend you, Lylla. You have far exceeded my expectations. You have passed the assessment."

Lylla furrowed her brow. "The assessment, my Lord?"

Vader nodded slightly. "While you were interrogating the prisoner, I arranged release from your service here. You are now a free citizen."

Lylla's legs buckled from under her. She hit the marble floor hard on her knees, and the impact was enough to release the torrent of tears from her eyes. Her hand clutched her stomach. "W…what?" she stammered, battling to breathe.

"You have two choices. There is a supply cruiser leaving here destined for the Tennhausen Gate. You will have one hour to collect your things and be on it or," Vader leaned forward slightly, "you may consider this offer."

Lylla held her gaze on the Dark Lord. "What is it?"

"You may leave for Coruscant tomorrow to begin your training as an Enforcer with the Imperial Inquisition." Lylla's mouth dropped open, her breath stuck in her throat. Vader continued. "There you will receive an apartment, a private vehicle, your own corvette, and a personal account as well as a slave of your own to do what you will. Your choice, Lylla."

She sat on her knees in the middle of the chamber, still gaping at Vader, wearing an expression of utter disbelief. She fought to catch her breath so she could give him an answer…with tears still streaming down her cheeks, Lylla hoarsely whispered, "I accept your offer, Lord Vader."

"Very good, Lylla. Expect your reignments delivered to your quarters this evening, and be ready to leave by 0800 hours in the morning."

Lylla shakily rose to her feet before him, trying her best to compose herself. She took a step toward Vader's cubicle, still clutching her stomach, as she asked in a low, husky cry, "Why, Lord Vader? Why are you doing this for me?"

If Vader could have sighed through his breathing mechanism, he would have. What would you have me say, Lylla, he thought, his inner voice itself hoarse. That you are the first woman in twenty years who sees me as a man and not a monster? That I understand what it is to be a slave?

"Your abilities are being wasted here," he said simply. "It is difficult to find those of natural talent for the Emperor's Inquest Corps, and you show an inherent gift. It should be used to its fullest advantage." He paused. He folded his gloved hands. "You may return to your quarters."

She made no attempt toward the door, and Vader could feel a conflict smoldering within her. He felt she wanted to say something, but was unsure how to approach it…"You have a question, Lylla?"

"Yes, my Lord," she said, taking in a deep breath. She raised herself to her fullest height and met the Dark Lord's gaze as she stoked her confidence. She lightly touched the train of her garment as she asked softly, almost shyly, "Do you… like my garb, Lord Vader?"

She saw him stiffen a bit by her question. After a guarded pause, he answered in a low rumble, "It is…becoming."

"Thank you," Lylla said, raising her hands to the top of her garment. "I acquired it for you, Lord Vader, with the hope that you may call on me someday." Walking slowly toward the cubicle, she began to undo the clasps.

Vader stiffened even more. "What are you doing?"

A soft, seductive smile curved her full lips as she continued unclasping her garment. "I'm disrobing, my Lord. Because this time, I want to." She pulled the garment open and let it slip from her shoulders. It flittered to the ground to pool around her feet. She stood before Vader, still and serene, allowing him to scan every detail of her pale breasts, her slim arms, her taut abdomen.

She took another step forward. Vader raised his hand. "Stop, Lylla."

She did. "Why, my Lord?" He did not answer. She furrowed her brow, confused and a little hurt, unsure why he shouldn't want her…until a poignant realization slowly crept into her mind… "My Lord…when was the last time you had a woman?"

"Since…" He hesitated before continuing, "since I became this." He shocked himself by the candidness of his answer, the honesty lying beneath it, the uncertainty…

Lylla began to walk toward him again. As she did, she deftly unhooked the garters from her vinyl briefs: This time, Vader made no attempt to stop her. Unzipping the sides of her bottoms, she pulled them down and forward off her body. Cool and nude, wearing only the high vinyl boots, she ascended the first step to his chamber, then the second. Upon reaching the small landing, she knelt before him, placing her hands on top of his thighs, never taking her eyes off his mask. Her voice was low, steady, husky. "You trusted me with your prisoner. You trust me to serve you. Vader," she whispered, pushing herself up to face his mask directly, her eyes imploring, wanting, "will you trust me now?"

She was so gorgeous, so desirable, so fearless, so hungry for him …after decades of denying his desires for another's touch, Vader conceded.

Unclamping his hand from the arm of his throne, Vader raised his huge gloved hand toward her face. Barely touching the flesh of her long throat, with his fingertip he traced a line down to the sweep of her collarbone, over the alabaster curve of her shoulder. Lylla closed her eyes at his touch, and Vader could feel the sensations of heat and awakening begin to swirl from her, penetrating his own life energy. With the Force he sent his response, pushing forth his aura to envelop her, saturate her, draw her in…

Lylla arced back, heaving her small, supple breasts upwards in the process, taking in a sharp gasp. Every nerve in her ignited, every muscle tensed and relaxed at once as she experienced the caress of a thousand fingers upon her flesh…

"Lylla," Vader murmured through the rasp of his mask, "close your eyes." She complied. Vader passed his hand over her eyes, softly muttering a language she had never heard before and did not comprehend…

She jerked, suddenly afraid. "I…can't open my eyes. I'm blind."

"It is temporary, Lylla. And necessary. Do not fear."

"I…I thought you trusted me," she breathed hoarsely.

"I trust that you will hold my disfigurements a secret, Lylla. But I do not trust that you will not be horrified by them." Despite the mask's vocal synthesis, she detected the sorrow and self-loathing in his voice. She felt his huge hands grasp her arms, and he pulled her up to his lap, resting her into the crook of his massive arm. She could feel vibrations emanating from all around them as the life support mechanisms of the cubicle began to pulse and whir, and she heard the clicks of the metal appendages lowering from the ceiling, clamping onto his helmet and mask.

The rasping wheeze of the mask ceased, replaced by the rhythmic hum of the cubicle's respirator. As she listened to the appendages holding his life-giving mask lift, she felt the soothing touch of Vader's hand on her breast and realized that it was ungloved. The skin was even softer than her own, as it had been shielded in soft leather from the elements for many years, and easily covered her entire breast. She felt him slide her nipple between his fingers, caressing and squeezing it lightly. She arced again and moaned softly, bending back over his arm as he held her. Her mouth trembled when he felt his lips brush against her throat. He is gentle, so unlike the others. Her hips began to pump involuntarily and she felt the warm gush of want begin to wash between her legs; she reached to touch his head…and felt him flinch.

"Ssshh," she hushed. "Trust me, my lover..."

She ran her fingers over his bare skull, down his brow, under his eye. Yes, he was scarred badly, but rather than being repulsed, the creased texture of his skin only furthered her desire to pleasure him. She ran her finger under his chin, lowering her face to his. "Kiss me."

He did. He was hesitant. His lips, like his hands were soft and, Lylla found, unpracticed. She took the initiative and pressed into his lips with her own, caressing them, fondling them. When she felt he had relaxed under her kiss, she gingerly slipped her tongue between his lips.

Although she could not see, Lylla took in every detail of Vader's exposed face with her hands, stroking his scars, easing him as she continued to kiss him. Her confidence and desire mingled with her erotic skill eventually stirred Vader from of his apprehension, and he wrapped his hands around her back and crushed her against his massive chest and the armor plating it. She moaned within his kiss as it became deeper and forceful, slipping her hands down and around his waist. She rubbed her breasts against the armor's chest plate as she began to writhe on him, her long legs clamped around his pelvis, and she smiled under his lips when she felt his codpiece swelling and growing warm. He was, indeed, functional.

He softly pulled away from her mouth and he gently bent her back, holding her by the small of her back. As she arced her back, he ran his hand down her throat again, to her breasts, over her belly and down further until she felt him finger the engorged nub nestled under her mound. Lylla cried out, and in response he pushed his fingers even further within her, sliding them in and out in a slow, primal rhythm. She tightened her muscles around them, pulling them in even further. She heard a low rumble from his throat, followed by the clicks of the appendages again. This time she heard them connect to his breastplate, shutting down the systems and gingerly removing it with mechanical expertise. In time, he pulled her back to him, still pleasuring her with his hand.

She lifted her hands to his chest, the suit and breastplate now peeled back to reveal more of his hairless, damaged skin. She flinched slightly when her fingers touched a tube inserted into the skin over his heart, alarmed that she might have disturbed its function.

As she gasped, he murmured, "It is all right. You did not hurt me." She felt his hand pass again along her face, under her jaw, down her throat and over her shoulder, down her back to grasp her buttock. He pulled her further into him, and he reveled at the heat of her naked breasts against his bared chest. She bucked in his hand, her breaths ragged and hoarse, feeling herself coming closer and closer to release…

"Please…my Lord…please," she gasped against his lips, "Please take me…"

Vader took in a deep breath, as the cubicle's respirator allowed him to breathe more freely on his own. He pulled his hand from her mound and took hers, pushing it down to his groin, whispering, "Assist me, Lylla…"

Her fingers searched the codpiece for its fasteners, finally finding and unsnapping them. She shifted herself up to allow greater freedom in releasing his member from his suit. She stroked it tenderly yet firmly, and moaned again when she felt his true size begin to emerge in her hand.

For a moment, Vader forgot himself. Forgot his status, his power, his injuries, his scars, even his name…he found he had just regarded himself by that other name, that forbidden name, that youthful name he remembered breathed into his ear many years ago by a sweet young voice…the name he would never hear again said in that soft, passionate way…

"Vader…"

His eyes snapped open as he was shaken from the memory by Lylla growling his Sith name with the same passion as she lowered her body onto him. Guiding him with her hand, she eased his swollen shaft into herself slowly, carefully, clenching around him. She rested her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself, as she began to writhe up and down, moving her slim hips in little circular motions around him.

Vader suddenly jerked. The sensation of sex had become so alien to his broken body that a searing spasm shot up his back into his neck…he ignored it, pulling the Dark Side around him and into the spastic muscles, using the black power to release them. He wrapped his hands around Lylla's waist and leaned his forehead into her belly…

Beautiful, let go to me. Open yourself…Si'at siikaa eusss'na Sith sei ti'maa…

Lylla threw back her head as Vader pathed the words into her mind. She felt her soul suddenly explode from her being like the bloom of an ebon rose. The sensation of a thousand breaths stroked against her flesh. Behind her blinded eyes she saw the shadowy forms of dark seraphim pass her gaze, approaching her as black lightening strobed behind them…

She began to pump herself faster upon him, and her moans soon elevated into wails of pleasure and pain as she felt the white-hot licks of demonic energy braise her back, run down her legs…the kisses of sinister angels burned her neck, her face, her breasts with cold heat…Vader watched her face twist in ecstatic agony…

Loisss'an siikaa, Lylla… are you afraid?

Naa'sha, she answered, aware that she was suddenly speaking in his language.

Good. His concentration broke only slightly as he felt the first pulls of orgasm beginning to tease his body. My seraph…siikaa sei ti'maa Sith…swear to me…swear it…

"I swear!" Lylla shrieked, pounding faster and faster, the pain becoming the pleasure, the darkness becoming her light… "Lover…Master…si'at ti'maa Sith…ah…Va…Vader… si'at ti'maa VADER!!!"

The seraphim behind her eyes all howled and shot into the dark skies surrounding them, flying into the lightening-laced black clouds…She screamed his name, flinging herself back so violently she feared her spine may break. Her muscles exploded with black fire, and she heard her own voice turn from human to animal, the howl of a tortured beast suddenly freed from its snare.

The black fire convulsed through him as well. Vader joined her, throwing back his head and screaming a roar far more terrifying than his mask could even create. His nails pierced her fair skin, and he felt the warm trickle of her blood leach around his fingers. His scalding seed pulsed into her, flooding her sex and his. The pain it caused was close to unbearable, but Vader embraced it, welcomed it, worshipped it…

Even as she descended back into herself, Lylla still wailed and flayed, unable to stop the shade of Sith magic raging through her. Vader slowly lifted her back to him, running his palm over her quivering body, invoking a calming spell over her. She collapsed against his chest, burying her face into his neck, panting uncontrollably. He held her there, running his hand, stained with her blood, into her hair.

"Lylla," he murmured into her ear, "what is your surname?"

His voice soothed her back into reality. She lifted her head as she whispered through ragged breaths, "I am a pleasure slave, Lord. I have no surname."

He caressed her cheek. "You do now. I will give you one."

She felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she returned his caress. "Lover…please…let me see your face. I will not be afraid, I swear."

He opened himself again to her, and felt the truth in her request. He lightly touched her closed eyes. "Saa'ta eusss'na sei Sith…"

The light of the cubicle poured into her newly opened irises, and she blinked hard to help focus them. As she became reacquainted with the light, she gazed into Vader's scarred, pale face and gasped.

Vader immediately felt betrayal and confusion from her reaction. "What is it?"

As she looked into his eyes, she smiled. "Your eyes, my Lord," she whispered with subdued surprise, "they're… blue."

The roundabout dropped Lylla in front of the harem chamber door. She did not want to leave her liege, but he had insisted that she must rest before her departure in the morning.

She entered the chamber, and once again the remainder of the harem hushed their conversation. But Lylla felt a different energy emanate from the group of girls as they looked at her. Last time, they stared at her with incredulous astonishment. This time, their eyes flickered with terror.

She stared at them in their silence. She then strode to her private chamber door.

She walked to her wardrobe, intent to begin packing her few belongings, when she caught herself in the mirror. She froze there, suddenly comprehending why the girls looked at her with such fear.

Her red hair was streaked with stripes of glossy black, and it had grown at least twenty centimeters down to her shoulders. Her eyes were no longer deep black-brown. They had turned crystalline silver.

As she gazed into the mirror, she noticed that her Inquisition's robes had been delivered as promised, lying on her bed. She walked over and fingered the rich velvets and silks of the robes, then saw the name embroidered in the lining. She lifted the robe to read it better…

The name on the robe read Lylla Sa'thraxxx. With her new consciousness, she knew what it meant—in Sith, the name meant "Dark Angel."

Dropping the robe, she opened her top, and stared at the symbol that now rose up from the alabaster skin between her breasts. It was Sithskrit and translated to basic, "Vader's."

She dared to touch it. Though a fiery reddish-purple brand, it was cool to her touch. She felt the sensation of flaming kisses again on her neck. She smiled.


End file.
